It has been a while since Ana last saw him make that particular dance: Reinhardt squirming on his seat, the wrinkles around his eyes a little deeper than usual, huge hands curled into fists in his lap as he held his elbows awkwardly away – making sure not to put pressure on the sides of his chest.

“You are a ridiculous boy,” she told him when she had him in her room, her voice low and smokey, one good eye peering up into his flushed face as she started unbuttoning his shirt. Where it usually fit perfectly fine, it now seemed to strain around the wide circumference of his chest.

“Been so long since I had the pleasure…” She pushed the shirt apart, smirking quietly, serenely as she carded fingertips through the thick, springy chest hair greeting her. 

“Such pretty tits you have… I didn’t know you were still giving milk, my pretty boy. Who would have known?” Reinhardt made a soft sound; his pecs looked even more obscene than usual; swollen as they were with milk, pink nipples puffy and red as if inflamed.

“No, don’t fuss,” she chided softly when he started squirming again, groaning low and rattling when her small hand cupped the lower curve of one hairy pec, squeezing it until sharp, forceful bursts of milk shot through the tiny openings in the swollen nipple – some clinging in droplets to the thick chest hair; others hitting the side of Ana’s face.

She chuckled, wiping some away with the tip of her finger and suckling it off as she looked up into his flushed face, the pupil of his good eye huge.

“Poor boy,” she crooned and took his large hand to lead him over towards the bed. “Sit. Mommy is hungry, baby. Just let me take good care of your lovely tits. Been so long since I could savor them last.”